


Showing Off

by OceansGreyWaves



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Cuddling & Snuggling, Exhibitionism, Katsuki Yuuri's Victor Nikiforov Posters, M/M, Masturbation, Russian Pet Names, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-05 21:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11021733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OceansGreyWaves/pseuds/OceansGreyWaves
Summary: Viktor finds out exactly what Yuuri needed with all those posters.





	Showing Off

Viktor tacks up a large poster of himself just before he cut his hair. Heavily creased, it came from an American tween magazine and has spent nearly a year in shameful storage. Viktor's long silver hair flows around him, unbound, as he skates backwards crossovers in search of the speed he needs for a jump. Crystals glint on his shoulder and at his waist while the rest of him is black spandex and mesh. His eyes are nearly closed, fixed on the camera; his lips slack and barely smiling. His arms are open as though for an embrace. Viktor barely remembers the picture being taken, but he knows he would never have left his hair down for a competition. He cocks a hip, narrowing his eyes at the poster, arms crossed with a finger over his lips.

Yuuri trips when he sees it, drops a stack of laundry, and sputters. Viktor giggles with the sheer joy of seeing his fiancé again after long minutes of being apart, and swoops Yuuri into a twirling hug, ignoring the laundry.

“Viktor!” Yuuri drags Viktor's name out on an embarrassed whine, looking anywhere but the poster, and Viktor knows then and there that he's cut his hair for the last time. He topples them to the bed, bouncing, and Yuuri tries desperately to clamber off and return to the mess of unfolded shirts on the throw rug across the room.

Viktor clamps down on Yuuri's waist, kissing over the nape of his neck with loud, exaggerated smacking. One hand squirms through Yuuri's defenses and strokes at the soft skin of his waist, and eventually Yuuri relents, slumps back against Viktor's chest, squeezes his eyes shut, and whines wordlessly.

"This was your favorite," Viktor giggles, eyeing the frayed creases going white through the black of his costume. "No wonder you wanted to skate in that costume, Yuuri." He draws out his name, choking on another giggle. Yuuri groans, glancing at the all-too-familiar poster from the corner of his eye.

Viktor shifts them, turning them to face the headboard, where younger Viktor is begging for their embrace. Yuuri goes red and he claps his hands over his face. With a little squirming, Viktor gets his fingers under Yuuri's shirt and strokes over the warm, soft skin of his chest and stomach. "Shh, любов," he soothes. "I'm not upset. I'm not disgusted. I'm not mad." He nuzzles Yuuri's throat, hums with satisfaction to feel his pulse calming. "It's actually rather arousing," he murmurs, voice pitching low. "To think you were out there somewhere, so turned on by just a picture of me."

"Oh, god," is all Yuuri can manage, muffled in his hands. Sure now that Yuuri would stay put, Viktor pulls his hands from the heat of Yuuri's heartbeat and removes the hands from his face, tilting Yuuri's chin up with two fingers.

"Look at it, золосте," he purrs into Yuuri's ear. "Tell me what got you so aroused. Why this poster?" Viktor shifts, trying so hard to ignore the throbbing in his own pants.

Yuuri swallows dryly and squeaks, but manages a weak answer. "I w-wished you'd look at me like that. Like I was all you wanted." His voice was louder now, stronger. A familiar aching firmness is growing between his thighs and he shifts in Viktor's lap. "Like you had been waiting just for me, and you were that happy just for me."

"Just for you, золосте," Viktor repeats, kissing Yuuri's ear. "Of course just for you." He strokes his fingertips slowly down Yuuri's throat, feeling his pulse quicken. "What would you do, дорогой? When you came home so lonely and saw me here, so thrilled to see you?"

Yuuri groans, a shaky hand coming to palm at his growing erection. Slowly, Viktor draws back, kneeling aside Yuuri but only watching now. "Show me, любов," he whispers, watching wide-eyed as Yuuri all but scrambles out of his pants, coming to kneel bottomless and flushed.

Yuuri's eyes are glazed, fixed on the gaze of the poster. His hands stroke up his chest, rucking his sweatshirt with them, and Viktor watches raptly, mouth watering at Yuuri's thickening cock as it reddens between his spread thighs. He takes note of Yuuri's fingers squeezing and twisting at his perked nipples, files away how his hips roll with each pinch.

One hand darts from under his shirt and Viktor bites back a groan to see three fingers disappear into Yuuri's slack mouth, thrusting into the drooling wetness. "Wish this was you, Vitya," Yuuri whispers around his own fingers. "Want to taste you." Viktor swoons to hear Yuuri, even in his teens, had learned to call him by such a sweet nickname.

Yuuri bends forward, and Viktor watches in amazement as he reaches between his legs with those dripping fingers and begins teasing himself with the smallest nudge of a fingertip. Viktor gasps with him, hand over his mouth, as Yuuri slowly presses a finger in with one slow, steady press.

"Vitya..." Yuuri wails the name softly, slipping a second finger in eagerly and thrusting evenly as his hips rock back. "M-more," he grunts, reaching with his free hand to curl around his cock. He nudges a final finger in and gasps, dropping his cheek to the pillow and breaking eye contact with the poster for the first time. His glasses skew and fog with his panting hot breath.

Viktor freezes, eyes flitting everywhere to take in the glorious sight before him. Yuuri fucking back on his own fingers, whining high in his throat as he strikes gold there over and over. His other hand doing no more than squeezing at his messy cock. His thighs trembling, his lips open and glistening wet, his eyes searching to meet Viktor's--this Viktor, now Viktor. 

"Yuuri," he whispers as their eyes meet, and it’s over. Yuuri tenses, trembles, moans as softly as he can as his hips pump and he clenches around his fingers. After a moment he slumps, panting heavily, eyes squeezed shut, and he slowly removes his fingers and wipes both hands on the inside of his sweatshirt.

At the sound of a small sniffle, Viktor throws himself over Yuuri to sweep him into a hug, holding him tight. He kisses over his face, reminds him, "I'm here, Yuuri, I'm here, you're not alone, моя золосте." He fights the urge to tear the poster down, and instead wraps them both in a comforter and burrows close to Yuuri, face to face, nose in his pulse. "You were beautiful, дорогой, спасибо, thank you, thank you," he chants, kissing Yuuri's throat and snuggling him tighter. Yuuri clings to him, arms tight at his waist, and gradually comes out of his daze.

“I hate that poster,” he grumbles, cheeks aflame.

“No, you don't,” Viktor chuckles, kissing up and down his throat.

“…No, I don't,” he relents. “But will you hang it somewhere else?”

**Author's Note:**

> любов - love  
> золосте - gold, golden  
> дорогой - darling  
> спасибо - thank you


End file.
